Old poems and older poems. The art in here is far more recent - all illustration tiles were made between April 20, 2024 and May 12, 2024.
Some of these poems were published in a chapbook, Eleusinian Mysteries, in 1995, under the pen name Sarah Maddo...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
No more. It is space. It is gone. Gone is the sweet task of pleasure from here, on paper, on tongue, and I rock from side to side, swinging, spasming with my attempts to reach being, but there is no fruition. Words trickle from my mouth only barely. This self died long ago. A heart that does not pump pushes my pen.
My thirst for lust is excruciating. Already the universe begins to bleed into a mouth distended with craving. I choke on clauses, on sensation. I have become the point. This is the cost of not surrendering. The raging on. I give in and fight possession. Rocking. Biting empty air. Groaning. Forcing.
